It's Better If You Do
Trente-Huit.
With a heavy sigh, Bellamy plopped herself down on the second floor swiping the back of her hand over the her forehead. She had finished cleaning the entirety of the store, and it seemed it was a bit brighter than it was just the previous day. She placed the mop in her hand against the banister with a clap and sighed, glancing around the shop with an accomplished smile. It wasn’t even lunch yet and she had gotten much accomplished. She figured she’d skip out on lunch and just snack through the afternoon until dinner. She pushed back the strands of hair that had fallen from her messy, impromptu bun, letting out another tired sigh.
After she figured she had rested from her cleaning enough, she stood and began to clean up. First, she snatched up the dust cloths from their spots dusting, then she grabbed the mop and bucket, beginning to make her way down the stairs. Bellamy took the steps one at a time and very slowly. Funnily enough, she had become accustomed to climbing them in heels and it felt odd for her to be wearing flats. The bells above the door chimed happily, but since Bellamy had her back to the door, she couldn’t see who had entered.
“I’m afraid we’re closed for the day,” she said a bit breathlessly as she neared the landing, “you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” The person didn’t say anything, nor did she hear the person leave, so once she reached the landing she placed the mop, bucket, and dreadfully dusty cloths to the side. She turned, getting ready to ask the person to leave again, but was a bit surprised when she saw George. His eyes were roaming the shop and his mouth appeared to have dropped open. His arms were full of different odds and ends in different sized boxes and he had nearly dropped them when he saw the state of the shop.
“What is it?” Bellamy asked quickly, hoping she hadn’t done something wrong. George’s eyes snapped to her and his eyebrows rose slightly.
“You…cleaned,” he said, sounding as awestruck as he looked. She merely nodded, staring at him for a few moments.
“Was I not supposed to?” She asked slowly. “I can dump the dirty mop water back onto the floor if you like the store that way,” she added, a bit unnerved by his speechlessness. He suddenly gave her a crooked grin and shook his head.
“The store hasn’t been this clean since we opened it. And even then, it was never this clean and organized,” he said, shaking his head at how everything seemed to sparkle and gleam with cleanliness. “Thank you.” Bellamy shrugged a bit and shook her head a bit.
“I had the time to. So I figured I’d be at least a little helpful today…instead of heckling you over that lovely fan club of yours,” she said, leaning over and picking up the bucket of dirty water. George let out sharp sigh at the mention of the women who seemed to follow him about, before noticing that Bellamy was having a tough time carrying everything by herself.
“Wait right there,” he said, causing her to pause and place everything back down, “just let me put this stuff down in the back room and I’ll help you carry something.” Bellamy gave a sigh and leaned against the railing, picking at her fingernails. George quickly walked into the backroom and set everything down in no particular order then went back into the store. He still couldn’t fathom how clean it appeared. Fred and him never seemed to be ones for cleaning, perhaps because they had so many other things to do they just rushed through it. He walked up the stairs and noticed that Bellamy was in a flat pair of shoes and just how short she actually was. He frowned a bit as he reached the landing, noticing just how much of a height difference there was between the two of them.
“My…now I can see why you wear heels all the time,” he said, “you’re practically the size of a house elf.” Bellamy gasped dramatically and glared at George, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I am not,” she said, thoroughly appalled. “I’ll have you know that I am exactly the size I should be and house elves are at least…at least…” Her voice died off as her face wrinkled slightly with heavy thought. George had to remind himself not to laugh at how worked up she was getting. “House elves have to be at least…two times smaller than me…at least.” She gave him a stern nod and glared up at him. He gave a sigh and held his hands up in defeat.
“Alright then…maybe you aren’t the size of a house elf then. I forgot you aren’t one for jokes,” he said with a small smile before picking up the bucket of water with one hand and tucking the mop under his other arm. That let Bellamy with the dust cloths.
“Some people have different senses of humor. I thought someone in your line of business would know that,” she retorted as they made their way down the stairs. George shrugged a bit as he walked to the bathroom, knowing Bellamy was following him from the soft pitter-patter of footsteps behind him.
“A different sense of humor…or no sense at all?” He asked, glancing to her over his shoulder. Once she saw the disdainful look on her face, he winced a bit, knowing he had probably gone a bit too far. She stopped walked and stared darkly at him, not saying a word. Suddenly, she threw the dust rags to the ground and held her hand out, motioning for him to give her the bucket full of dirty, icky mop water. He handed it over, willing to do just about everything to make sure he didn’t upset her again.
Before he knew it, Bellamy had stood on tip-toe and turned over the entire bucket of water over his head. He gasped a bit at it since it was cold, but he was also very surprised. He dropped the mop as he held his arms away from his sides, soaked to the core. His hair was in his eyes and he swiped it away, feeling a bit of the grit and grime against his skin. He noticed that Bellamy was wearing a spiteful smirk as she placed the bucket to the side, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Oh, ha ha, you‘re so funny,” George said sarcastically, feeling he was reaching the end of the very long rope of patience that he had with this woman. The smirk disappeared and the brunette pulled her wand from the waist of her shorts and pointed it at the bucket.
“Aguamenti,” she said, a jet of water filling up the bucket quickly. Turning to George as she placed her wand back into the waistband of her shorts, she said simply and in a cool voice, “Clean it up.” She side-stepped him and began to walk up to the flat, tracking icky, wet footprints as she went. George merely stood there for a moment, sopping wet and miserably cold, before he turned and walked into the backroom then up the stairs to the flat. However, when he turned the handle of the closed door, he found it was locked and his wand was no where on him.
“Bellamy,” he called through the wood of the door, “let me in so I can shower before I clean.” Bellamy, who was scowling at the door from her cot, let out a short hum before replying.
“No…I won’t let you in until it’s cleaned.”
“But won’t I just keep making a mess? I’m waterlogged, Bellamy…at least let me put on some dry clothes,” he begged, the bet with Fred completely forgotten. He was miserable and felt he could sympathize greatly with a wet cat.
“Nope. You’ll just have to deal,” the French woman said stubbornly, continuing to scowl at the door. George sighed heavily and let his arms fall against his sides with a squelching ‘slop’. He drew in a breath of air and resting his forehead against the door.
“Please, Bellamy,” he pleaded softly, in the most apologetic voice he could muster, “I’m begging you. I will anything you want me to. Just let me put on some dry clothing.” Bellamy sighed lightly as she stared at the door, fighting an internal battle over whether she should open the door or not. Rolling her eyes at how much her conscience was screaming at her, she stood and walked over to the door, pulling it open. She wouldn’t look at him when she did, but merely looked at the ground beneath her feet.
“Go ahead and get a shower,” she said softly, taking a step back from the door. “I’ll go and clean it up. It’s my fault that I made the mess anyways...” With that, she darted around him before he got another word in and disappearing back into the shop.
After she figured she had rested from her cleaning enough, she stood and began to clean up. First, she snatched up the dust cloths from their spots dusting, then she grabbed the mop and bucket, beginning to make her way down the stairs. Bellamy took the steps one at a time and very slowly. Funnily enough, she had become accustomed to climbing them in heels and it felt odd for her to be wearing flats. The bells above the door chimed happily, but since Bellamy had her back to the door, she couldn’t see who had entered.
“I’m afraid we’re closed for the day,” she said a bit breathlessly as she neared the landing, “you’ll have to come back tomorrow.” The person didn’t say anything, nor did she hear the person leave, so once she reached the landing she placed the mop, bucket, and dreadfully dusty cloths to the side. She turned, getting ready to ask the person to leave again, but was a bit surprised when she saw George. His eyes were roaming the shop and his mouth appeared to have dropped open. His arms were full of different odds and ends in different sized boxes and he had nearly dropped them when he saw the state of the shop.
“What is it?” Bellamy asked quickly, hoping she hadn’t done something wrong. George’s eyes snapped to her and his eyebrows rose slightly.
“You…cleaned,” he said, sounding as awestruck as he looked. She merely nodded, staring at him for a few moments.
“Was I not supposed to?” She asked slowly. “I can dump the dirty mop water back onto the floor if you like the store that way,” she added, a bit unnerved by his speechlessness. He suddenly gave her a crooked grin and shook his head.
“The store hasn’t been this clean since we opened it. And even then, it was never this clean and organized,” he said, shaking his head at how everything seemed to sparkle and gleam with cleanliness. “Thank you.” Bellamy shrugged a bit and shook her head a bit.
“I had the time to. So I figured I’d be at least a little helpful today…instead of heckling you over that lovely fan club of yours,” she said, leaning over and picking up the bucket of dirty water. George let out sharp sigh at the mention of the women who seemed to follow him about, before noticing that Bellamy was having a tough time carrying everything by herself.
“Wait right there,” he said, causing her to pause and place everything back down, “just let me put this stuff down in the back room and I’ll help you carry something.” Bellamy gave a sigh and leaned against the railing, picking at her fingernails. George quickly walked into the backroom and set everything down in no particular order then went back into the store. He still couldn’t fathom how clean it appeared. Fred and him never seemed to be ones for cleaning, perhaps because they had so many other things to do they just rushed through it. He walked up the stairs and noticed that Bellamy was in a flat pair of shoes and just how short she actually was. He frowned a bit as he reached the landing, noticing just how much of a height difference there was between the two of them.
“My…now I can see why you wear heels all the time,” he said, “you’re practically the size of a house elf.” Bellamy gasped dramatically and glared at George, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I am not,” she said, thoroughly appalled. “I’ll have you know that I am exactly the size I should be and house elves are at least…at least…” Her voice died off as her face wrinkled slightly with heavy thought. George had to remind himself not to laugh at how worked up she was getting. “House elves have to be at least…two times smaller than me…at least.” She gave him a stern nod and glared up at him. He gave a sigh and held his hands up in defeat.
“Alright then…maybe you aren’t the size of a house elf then. I forgot you aren’t one for jokes,” he said with a small smile before picking up the bucket of water with one hand and tucking the mop under his other arm. That let Bellamy with the dust cloths.
“Some people have different senses of humor. I thought someone in your line of business would know that,” she retorted as they made their way down the stairs. George shrugged a bit as he walked to the bathroom, knowing Bellamy was following him from the soft pitter-patter of footsteps behind him.
“A different sense of humor…or no sense at all?” He asked, glancing to her over his shoulder. Once she saw the disdainful look on her face, he winced a bit, knowing he had probably gone a bit too far. She stopped walked and stared darkly at him, not saying a word. Suddenly, she threw the dust rags to the ground and held her hand out, motioning for him to give her the bucket full of dirty, icky mop water. He handed it over, willing to do just about everything to make sure he didn’t upset her again.
Before he knew it, Bellamy had stood on tip-toe and turned over the entire bucket of water over his head. He gasped a bit at it since it was cold, but he was also very surprised. He dropped the mop as he held his arms away from his sides, soaked to the core. His hair was in his eyes and he swiped it away, feeling a bit of the grit and grime against his skin. He noticed that Bellamy was wearing a spiteful smirk as she placed the bucket to the side, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Oh, ha ha, you‘re so funny,” George said sarcastically, feeling he was reaching the end of the very long rope of patience that he had with this woman. The smirk disappeared and the brunette pulled her wand from the waist of her shorts and pointed it at the bucket.
“Aguamenti,” she said, a jet of water filling up the bucket quickly. Turning to George as she placed her wand back into the waistband of her shorts, she said simply and in a cool voice, “Clean it up.” She side-stepped him and began to walk up to the flat, tracking icky, wet footprints as she went. George merely stood there for a moment, sopping wet and miserably cold, before he turned and walked into the backroom then up the stairs to the flat. However, when he turned the handle of the closed door, he found it was locked and his wand was no where on him.
“Bellamy,” he called through the wood of the door, “let me in so I can shower before I clean.” Bellamy, who was scowling at the door from her cot, let out a short hum before replying.
“No…I won’t let you in until it’s cleaned.”
“But won’t I just keep making a mess? I’m waterlogged, Bellamy…at least let me put on some dry clothes,” he begged, the bet with Fred completely forgotten. He was miserable and felt he could sympathize greatly with a wet cat.
“Nope. You’ll just have to deal,” the French woman said stubbornly, continuing to scowl at the door. George sighed heavily and let his arms fall against his sides with a squelching ‘slop’. He drew in a breath of air and resting his forehead against the door.
“Please, Bellamy,” he pleaded softly, in the most apologetic voice he could muster, “I’m begging you. I will anything you want me to. Just let me put on some dry clothing.” Bellamy sighed lightly as she stared at the door, fighting an internal battle over whether she should open the door or not. Rolling her eyes at how much her conscience was screaming at her, she stood and walked over to the door, pulling it open. She wouldn’t look at him when she did, but merely looked at the ground beneath her feet.
“Go ahead and get a shower,” she said softly, taking a step back from the door. “I’ll go and clean it up. It’s my fault that I made the mess anyways...” With that, she darted around him before he got another word in and disappearing back into the shop.